Thoughts on life from an Aussie sheila in the UK

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Muscles & A Minor Heatwave…

A miracle has happened…London is having a summer! Not only that but this week will represent a veritable heatwave for Ol’ Blighty with temps forecast at 33C for the quarter finals at Wimbledon on Wednesday. And let me tell you, it’s sticky, sticky, sticky…a good burst of rain would certainly freshen things up no end although moaning about the weather would make me sound dangerously British so please take note – I am merely ‘suggesting’ a rain dance…and purely for the benefit of my veggie patch…

J is at Wimbledon today being entertained by not only the action on Centre Court but also in the air-conditioned confines of The Gatsby Club (so he told me when he rang earlier today from the Champagne Reception…green-with-envy is not my best colour…), leaving me to limp around in the heat after a gruelling gym session yesterday morning.

You see, I decided that I needed to add a bit more variety into my weekday Esporta exploits and, having availed myself of a freebie personal training voucher, decided to put myself into someone else’s hands for an hour on a Sunday morning. I thought I managed quite well during the session and, apart from feeling unbelievably tired at about 6pm yesterday and a few minor groans this morning when I woke up, was pleased that the aftermath was at least bearable…that is until I got up, and walked around, stretching and squatting to get to things on various shelves in the kitchen. Ouch!

There are those muscles up the sides of your thighs and the ones at the front just above your knees, not to mention my upper arms (all over) and my ‘glutes’ – if I don’t move things are fine but just a tiny shift is enough for any or all of these to send me a little reminder that they are there…and not best pleased at being woken after such a long period of inactivity!

I promised my friend A that we would walk in Richmond Park for an hour this arvo – but shhh. Please don’t chuckle too loudly (at the very least cover your gleeful grin with your hand) or my legs may just go on out strike or demonstrate vigorously in protest – and who knows how much that will hurt!